“Huh. True.”
“Does it hurt?” She ran a gentle finger along my bruised jaw. I tried not to flinch.
“Only if I put pressure on it.” I captured her wrist in my hand and lowered it to my chest. Curiosity gnawed at me. There was something else I had to know, even if it killed the mood. “Are you going to follow through with the other story?” I asked at last, my hand stilling against her back.
“I’m already in too deep not to.” Her voice was quiet, but resolute.
I stared at the ceiling. “You really think Obsidian’s cheating?”
“I do.”
“And me?” I tensed slightly, worried I’d pushed the wrong button. But Elena rubbed her cheek against my shoulder, a subtle shake of her head.
“No. I believe you don’t have anything to do with it.”
“Good. Because I don’t. I’ve been watching the car, every moment I can. I haven’t seen anything. Are you prepared to be wrong?”
She stiffened slightly. “I have to be open to that, but I don’t think I am.”
That made something cold and sharp settle in my gut. How far would she push this? Would it tear us apart when it was the very thing that had brought us together?
She pushed up onto her elbow, looking down at me. “You want me to drop it?”
“No.” My voice was rougher than intended. “No, I don’t. Just… be careful. People who mess with power usually end up as cautionary tales.”
Her expression softened. “I know. Like my Dad.”
“Exactly.” Everyone in our sport knew what had happened when Ian Archer blew the whistle on a cheating scandal twenty years ago. He’d been a respected mechanic but after that he was frozen out of the entire sport. “You’ll be seen as a pariah.” Myvoice was achingly soft and I kept hold of her to show her that I wanted to keep her safe.
“I’m not scared.”
“I know.” I looked at her. “That’s what worries me.”
We stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she laid back down and rested her head on my chest again. I wrapped my arm around her without thinking.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I never planned to fall into bed with a driver. Let alone the subject of a story. There’s probably some ethical rule about it.”
“Probably. I never planned to get punched on live television, either.”
She laughed, a low sound that vibrated through me. “At least we’re both full of surprises.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You’re one big walking surprise.” Her voice was slowing, softening, tiredness taking hold.
“Hmm?” I nudged, gently.
“Those texts earlier. I didn’t know you were that funny, or flirtatious.”
“I’m as surprised as you are,” I murmured. My own fatigue tugging at my eyelids. “But I think I’m out of surprises for tonight.”
“Same,” she whispered, already drifting.
She fell asleep like that, draped over me like I was a safe place to land.
And I lay there, reluctantly awake, wondering when the hell she’d become mine to worry about.
